


Push and Pull

by Darkestsiren



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Courage, Fear, Fluff, Friendship, Love, M/M, Shame, shadowhuntersTV - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkestsiren/pseuds/Darkestsiren
Summary: Alec struggles with his decision to marry Lydia Branwell.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I mostly write Book!Malec, but this is Show!Malec. This takes place in season 1. It's a few deleted scenes leading up to the ill-fated wedding. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> I took some of the dialogue straight from the show, so credit to McG, Ed Dector and all the Shadowhunters writers. As always, these amazing characters belong to Cassandra Clare.

I breathe a heavy sigh and close my eyes, hoping for sleep. With all the trouble with Valentine, the conflict with Jace, finally finding Carly’s mother only to be unable to wake her, the wedding tomorrow, and what happened with Magnus yesterday, I’m… tense, to say the least. Angry, if I’m honest. Ashamed, if I’m really honest. 

My jaw aches from clenching it so hard these last few days. Or is it weeks? God. How has everything spun out of control so hopelessly, so fast? I clench my teeth again, savoring the pain, letting it anchor me. I’m used to pain. It’s familiar, a constant, something I know how to handle. Unlike the crashing electricity and strange ache that pulls at me every time I see, or even think about, a certain painfully attractive warlock.

A warlock who’s made it quite obvious how he feels about me.

The night we met I couldn’t keep my eyes off the man. He was intoxicating and terrifying, so beautiful and confident and comfortable with himself, so… out. Out. I flinch just thinking the word. I wonder what it feels like, not having to hide, not being scared someone will notice, not spending every single moment of my life trying to act like my feelings are different than what they are. 

Clary gleaned the truth almost immediately, curse her. I bite back a smile, remembering how she’d confronted me on the sidewalk. I want to hate her but I can’t. I can’t hate anyone that cares for Jace the way she does.

Jace. Golden haired Jace. Perfect, fearless Jace. His face doesn’t affect me like it used to, I realize. When did that happen? I swallow, thinking back to that night at Pandemonium, the night we went to make a trade with the infamous High Warlock, Magnus Bane. A priceless necklace for Clary’s memories. He wore blue, I remember, a patterned jacket over tight jeans, his  shirt partially open, his hair spiked up, glitter on his glorious, impossibly high cheekbones. 

I shiver, sink my teeth into my lip, not really fighting the surge of heat that goes through me when I think about him. I’ve been trying to fight it since that night, the night I saved his life, the night he smiled at me and my heart stopped beating, my mind stopped working, my blood starting pounding. 

I slide a hand into my boxers and pull on myself, hard. It’s infuriating how fast I get hard just thinking about him. Magnus. How his eyes sparkle, how soft his skin looks, how lush and supple his lips seem. I love watching him talk, love watching those lips caress the words, love how he gestures, so graceful, his fingers gliding through the air delicately, his hips moving. 

God. I jerk harder, and my breath comes a little faster. A tiny sheen of sweat prickles my forehead, my neck. I remember Magnus healing Luke. I’d ignored Jace’s request, too scared to let myself be around Magnus, and too mad at Jace, until Izzy told me my parents were going to make me marry. It was like the noose was dangling in front of me and I just couldn’t take it anymore. I ran all the way to Magnus’ loft and when I got there Magnus was exhausted, sweat glistening on his face, his jaw slack. His eyes were desperate, yet hopeful, when he asked for my help. I didn’t even think, just offered myself up. 

I pant a little faster, wishing it was Magnus’ hand on me, urging me to release, Magnus’ lips at my ear whispering sweet encouragements.

Another shiver. 

That night was like a dream. After the strange intensity of sharing my energy with a warlock, with _Magnus,_ I loitered there in the loft, busying myself with cleaning up, re-shelving books, anything to avoid leaving. I knew I shouldn’t, knew I should go, remove myself from temptation, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted to soak him in, drink from the goblet of his exquisite kindness, that knowing smile, those flashing eyes, that hint of caramel skin just visible through his slightly open shirt.

“Oh god,” I moan softly. _Magnus!_ I jerk faster, almost keening, the heat high my blood, desire racing in my veins.

He made us drinks. He was open and honest and, god, so beautiful, so fragile and strong and… _Magnus!_  

I flash to our most recent meeting and my whole body goes cold, shame crashing down on me. Magnus was nothing but patient, compassionate, honest, fair, and I repaid him with crossed arms, frowning retorts and sharp words, throwing my fear and anger at him instead of at myself, where it belongs.

The look in his eyes. It broke me. It wasn’t just the hurt I’d inflicted with my viciousness,   horrible as that was, but the echo of a thousand other hurts just like it. A thousand other people telling him, over and over, that he wasn’t good enough to upset their comfortable lives for, that he wasn’t worth loving. 

And, oh god, I love him. I can’t deny it anymore, can’t lie to myself anymore, not about this. Not about him. My Magnus.

But it doesn’t matter. It’s not that he isn’t worth upsetting my life for, he is. That and more. But it isn’t just me that will be affected if I call off this wedding tomorrow, admit how I feel, who I am. I have no choice. I have no power. 

I roll out of bed with a groan and pull on my gear, anger and fear, and regret, hurt and _want,_ and just plain frustration roils inside me. I feel trapped, shackled into a life I don’t want, can’t live, and I have no way out. No way that doesn’t hurt someone, everyone, and I’m so tired of hurting people.

Again, those pained, green-gold, slitted eyes burn in my mind and I falter, gasping, forced to grab the railing on my way down to the training room. _I’m sorry, Magnus…_ _I can’t._

It took me so long to admit it to myself: that I like other men, that I’m not what a Shadowhunter is meant to be. I resolved, then, that I’d always hide it, that I’d just pretend I was like everyone else. I could live without love, without sex. It would be fine, I told myself. It wasn’t like Jace was ever going to be into me, and anyway and we’re parabatai, forbidden from falling love with each other. It would be fine. I’d be fine.

But then I met Magnus and everything changed. I wanted him like I’d never wanted Jace, or anyone, and I couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t hide it. Magnus was right, my heart did speed up when I saw him, my skin tingled when he was close, my hands ached to touch him, my mouth yearned to taste him. Everything he said or did felt like it was reverberating inside me, shaking me loose, shaking my resolve. 

Ruining everything. 

I raise my bow and fire, hitting the mark without even really trying. 

Magnus didn’t ruin anything, I chide myself. It’s unfair of me to blame him for what is quite obviously my problem.

I aim again. Shoot. 

Magnus. With his wit and charm, with his coy smiles and his colorful drinks and the way all his affectations just fall away when he needs to be serious; the way I can see how unsure and scared and delicate he truly is. How good. How much love he has to give, how much he wants to give it to me.

My last arrow goes wide, my arm shaking. I’ve been shooting, one arrow after the other without pause, until my quiver is empty and my arm burns. But that’s not why I’m shaking. My knees buckle and I fall to the ground, hand clamping over my mouth, choking back sobs. My chest feels like it’s caving in on itself, a hole burning into my body, and I curl in on myself, shaking and cursing and wishing, just wishing. For help. For freedom. For the right to love who I want. 

After a long while I heave myself to my feet and lurch back up to my room. My head is blissfully empty, my body limp, spent in grief and bow work. I fall onto the bed fully clothed and curl into a ball, sobbing silently.

I wake to bright light filtering in through my window and a new sense of strength. Maybe I can make it through this after all. I roll out of bed and peel off my gear, stepping into the shower. My skin feels tender, like I spent the night with salt water on my face, and I grimace at myself. So weak, I frown. I take a breath and gather all my weakness, all my longing and love for a person I will never have, and lock it away. I’m getting married today. 

I dress in fresh gear and head downstairs, determined to make a new start. The entire Institute is in disarray, people running to and fro with flowers and dishes and large bolts of cloth whose purpose I can only guess at. I wander through the madness, searching for Jace or Izzy, but everyone is busy and I soon found myself at loose ends. Feeling directionless, and knowing I can’t let myself go in the direction I want, I head to the training room. 

I ignore the memories of last night’s break down and instead focus on warming up. I stretch and breathe and drill through combat routines until my mind is fully focused, my body honed into a precision weapon. 

“That’s looking good.”

Lydia’s voice interrupts my flow but I manage not to fall. Or stumble. “Hey,” I smile. “You here to train?” I ask, motioning at her gear. 

Lydia nods. “Figured I might as well. They won’t let me help with the preparations and  I’ve already finished up all the Institute business for the day.” She swings her arms back and forth and I wonder if it’s out of nervousness or if she’s just warming up. I don’t really know her at all, I realize.

“Me too,” I say, a little late. I return to my ready stance and cock my head. “Spar with me?” 

Lydia smiles but she shakes her head. “I’m under strict instructions from your sister not to get any new bruises,” she says. “Think I’m just going to stretch, throw some knives.” 

I shrug and shoot her a knowing grin. “Best not to upset Isabelle,” I agree, returning to my exercises. 

“Any word from Magnus?” 

A jolt goes through me and I have to clench my fists to keep from shaking. “What?” I manage, sounding completely flustered.

“About the Book of the White,” she clarifies. 

“Oh, right. Of course. Yeah, uh, no. Haven’t heard from him.” May never hear from him again, since I was so awful to him the other day.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll contact the Institute if he finds anything.” 

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing back the sudden pounding in my chest. “I’m sure he will.” 

And what then? How was I going to talk to him, act like there was nothing between us, like everything was just business and not this desperate, aching need to pull him into me? 

“Alec? You ok?” Lydia asks softly. She’s suddenly right beside me, her hand on my arm. 

I shake her off, backing away like she has an infectious disease or something. “What? Yeah. No, I’m fine. I should go.” I back toward the door just as Izzy is coming in and I nearly run her over. 

“Alec! What are you doing in here? You can’t see the bride before the ceremony! Get! Get out of here!” she shrieks, swatting at me with a smile. 

I glare at her, though I’m secretly glad for the excuse to escape, and I turn, running back to my room, heart pounding. I close the door to my room and lean up against it, eyes clenching, heaving, trying so hard to breathe, just breathe. Don’t cry, don’t scream, don’t run to Brooklyn. Don’t fall apart. Don’t fall apart. Don’t fall apart.

“You can do this,” I tell myself. “You can do this. You have to do this. You have to.” 

_I can’t…_

Finally, face smooth, back straight, I emerge from my room again. I go straight to the kitchen, ignoring the catering staff, and grab a cup of coffee and a sandwich. I go up to the roof where I can be alone and watch the clouds move across the sky. I can also see all the way to Brooklyn from up here, and I try as hard as I can but even with a Far-Sighted Rune I can’t see Magnus’ loft. Still, I fix my eyes where I know it to be and I look and look, making my peace. Saying my farewells. Sealing up my breaking heart. Again.

God, why? Why did I have to fall in love? Why couldn’t I have just gone on as I had been? Content to just be, hiding sure, but not dying inside, not fighting this beast that keeps trying to crawl its way out my skin.

I drop my face into my hands and find dampness on my cheeks. I wipe at it irritatedly, wishing I was stronger. Strong enough. Strong enough not to care. Strong enough not to hide. Strong enough to hide better. I don’t know! Fuck! 

A body sits down beside me and I glance up. Jace sits Indian style on the shingles, his eyes trained on the skyline.

“Everyone’s been asking for you,” he says at last. 

I nod, not trusting my voice. 

“Well, mostly Mom, actually.” Jace turns, smirking at me in that Jace way. “She wants to know if you need any help with your suit.”

I roll my eyes. “I think I’m ok.”

Jace winces and I curse myself. I have to be more careful. 

“Are you?”

I can’t answer. We’ve just been through this, last night. 

Jace sighs. “Look, Alec,” he says, facing me again. 

I keep my eyes on the sky. 

“I know, ok?”

My eyes flick to his face, my heart stuttering. My cheeks are on fire.

“I know how you feel… _felt_ about me,” he says. I swing my head around, ready to deny it, but Jace holds up his hand, shaking his head. “I’ve known for a long time.”

All I can do is stare at him in horror. “Izzy?” I breathe.

Jace shakes his head, a sad sharpness to his eyes. “She’s never breathed a word, bro. I could just tell.”

I bury my face in my hands, bend over my knees, trying to hide, wishing I could die. I thought I’d done better than this. I thought I was fooling people. Did everyone know? Did Mom? Did _Dad?_

“It doesn’t change anything,” Jace says softly. “I don’t care that you like guys.”

Oh my god. It’s out there, just like that. You like guys. He said them, the words I can’t bring myself to say. 

I can’t breathe. The world is spinning too fast and I can’t keep up, can’t breathe or think. I crumble in on myself, wishing I could just disappear. 

A warm hand appears on my back, rubbing in little circles, comforting me in a way that is very un-Jace. It helps calm me down though, grounding me with his silent acceptance. I take a breath and turn into him, praying that he’ll just hold me, just for a moment while I remember how to exist. He does, pulling me in tight, and I’m shaking in his arms. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Alec,” Jace says. His lips are right in my hair, his breath ruffling the stands, licking over my ear and I almost laugh thinking of how much I’d yearned for something so intimate from him just a few short weeks ago. Now it’s someone else’s lips I yearn for. Someone else’s breath.

I sit up and wipe my eyes, hating that I’m crying, yet again. Jace wipes his eyes too, though, and I don’t feel so bad. I even laugh, a little. 

“Why didn’t you ever let on that you knew?” I ask. I feel weirdly light, buoyant, without this secret between us, almost giddy.

Jace shrugs. “It was your secret. I wanted you to tell me.” He looks hurt.

“Jace, I— I’m sorry. I didn’t… I thought, I—” I swallow hard and try again. “I was afraid.” I study my boots, my cheeks flaming.

Jace drapes his arm across my back and leans his head on my shoulder, just like he used to when we were kids. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” I say, ashamed. This is Jace, my best friend, my parabatai. I shouldn’t have been scared of him. I should have been able to confide in him.

“You can tell me anything, Alec,” Jace says then. His voice is small but strong. “I hope you know that. I’m always here for you.”

I nod, breathing in his strength, his love. “Thanks, Jace.” 

He leans away and I instantly miss his heat, his support. “So, um, Magnus, right?” he asks, grinning.

I gulp. Why does it hurt just to hear his name? I nod at Jace, feeling strange. It’s weird to admit my feelings, even non-verbally like this. Especially to Jace.

“Figured. You go all starry-eyed whenever he’s around.”

My cheeks burn and I groan, leaning back on my hands and looking up into the sky. “Great. And here I thought I was being all stealthy and shit.”

Jace laughs. “Well, I do know you exceptionally well,” he teases. “Seriously, though. What are you going to do?”

I let my head fall back and close my eyes, the weight crashing back down on me. “Nothing’s changed, Jace. I’m still marrying Lydia.”

Jace scrubs his hands down his face. He looks at me, shaking his head with that classic Jace frown. “How? How are you going to pull this off, Alec? You’re going to be married. Married! Like, producing heirs, married. How the hell is that going to work?”

“It just is. It has to. I have no other choice.” Even I can hear how ridiculous that sounds. I have to fight the revulsion even talking about it. Sex with a woman. “I’ll figure it out, Jace. I have to.”

“You don’t have to!” he says, voice rising. “You can still call this thing off. Lydia will understand!”

“It’s not just Lydia, Jace,” I say. “It’s everything! The Clave, our parents, our family name. This is the only way to fix what our parents have done to this family. What we’ve all done. It’s the only way I’ll ever get to run this Institute. Imagine, Jace. Imagine what I could do here, if I was in charge. I could broker a fair, more lasting peace with the Downworlders. I could help you find Valentine instead of standing here with my hands tied. I could update the strategies we’re using, the tech, our intel. I could do so much good here, Jace. I have to do that. I have to.”

Jace is staring, wide eyed, by the time I finish, his brows somewhere near his hairline. But his eyes are alight. “I had no idea you had such high aspirations,” he says, almost smiling. 

I huff, a little embarrassed after my long tirade, but also a little proud of myself for finally explaining it all. “This is so important, Jace. So much more important than who I want to love.”

“Is it?” he asks, and I frown. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. Everything you just said is important. Really important. But think about it. You’ll be running the Institute with Lydia. Is she on board with your agenda? Have you even talked to her about all your plans?”

I look down, knowing I haven’t. 

“And, just because you’re in charge here doesn’t mean you suddenly have complete control. The Clave still dictates everything we do. And, Alec, dude, it’s not up to you to atone for our parents’s sins. You don’t have to pay their debts. This isn’t on you, man. You get to have your own life!”

I blow out a little frustrated laugh. He’s right, I know. Kind of. “I know it’s not totally on me,” I say. “But I’m the oldest and it _is_ mostly on me. Besides, this is still the best way to create change within the Clave. With the Institute in our control we’ll have a louder voice. Especially with the addition of the Branwell name.”

Jace frowns but he doesn’t argue. He looks down at his hands, thinking, for several long moments. “It sounds like you’ve really thought this through,” he says, finally meeting my eyes. “But marrying Lydia isn’t the only way, you know. And, what about your personal life, Alec? You can’t just pretend you don’t need love. I know you, better than you think, and I can see how miserable you are.”

I start at that, surprised. My eyes drift over the skyline until I can see Brooklyn again, my chest constricting. _Magnus…_ How I long to just run to him and curl into his arms and wait for the world to disappear, let him shield me from all the madness in my head, let him soothe away all this pain and shame and fear.

Jace is right. I _am_ miserable. I’ve been miserable for a long time. I’m good at it. Practiced. Adept. And so, so tired. “I’ll figure something out, Jace,” I say with a sigh. The sun is beginning its decent, marking the sky with strokes of orange and pink. I stand up. “I better go see if can get into that suit by myself.”

Jace climbs to his feet. His lips are tight and I know he isn’t happy. He puts a hand on my shoulder and waits for me to meet his gaze. “Whatever you decide, Alec,” he says when I finally look up. “I’m with you. Forever. Whatever you need.”

I smile. It’s nice having him back in my corner. And now that he finally knows the truth, or at least it’s out in the open between us since he apparently already knew, it’s even better. “Thank you, Jace,” I say, really meaning it. “For everything. I’ve always got your back, too. You know that, right? We’ll figure this thing out with Carly, ok? I promise.”

Jace fights back a shiver and nods. 

I leave Jace at the stairs and go back to my room to get ready. While I shower and dress I think over everything I said to Jace, and everything he said to me. I can’t believe he was so easy about me being gay, like it really didn’t bother him, didn’t change anything between us. That knowledge is like a little ball of air in my chest, lifting me up just that little bit more, giving me that extra bit of strength I need to get through this. 

I force thoughts of green-gold cat eyes from my mind and focus on the future, on the future I’m going to make. One where others in my position won’t have to hide, or fear. Or live a lie.

The great hall is a symphony of chaos. Guests in their finery milling about looking stodgy and disapproving, flower arrangements being settled into their final places, the velvet runner being laid down the aisle, candles being lit, people taking their seats. My mother, severe in her gown, smoothing my jacket and telling me how proud I’ve made her. My stomach clenches ever tighter, roiling with a feeling of dread that just keeps getting tighter and tighter until I can barely see, barely breathe. 

Jace gives me one last chance to end all this, offering me support no matter what I chose. I breathe in his strength and love like air and swallow, taking my place at the altar, my hands shaking. Everything is a blur, yet strangely sharp at the same time, certain details standing out while others recede. The stiffness of my shirt collar, the green of Clary’s dress, the flash of gold across the altar as the sun finally sets, the slashed and sewn face of the Silent Brother who calls everyone to attention. 

I gulp in a breath, wishing this were over. Music starts playing and Izzy is at the doorway. She looks upset. She walks down the aisle carrying a small pillow with a stele and a bracelet laid out on it.

And then there’s Lydia, radiant in her jeweled, strapless dress, her hair in a cascade of gold, gliding down the aisle like a goddess and all I can do is stare in terror, force myself to breathe, remind myself to smile once in a while even though I feel like I’m dying. I swallow hard and focus on the future, my jaw clenching painfully. Anxiety is rolling off me in waves and I’m surprised no one says anything.  

When she approaches I take Lydia’s hand and help her up onto the dais, carefully schooling my face. My chest is so tight. Is it cold in here? Is the air thin? Why do my hands seem so heavy? Lydia slips the bracelet onto my wrist and I stare at it, seeing only a shackle, a chain, a prison.

Oh god. I can’t do this. I can’t. Fuck. 

Jace holds out the necklace and I take it even though I’m starting to panic. I fasten the clasp mechanically, not even seeing when Lydia turns back around, smiling. The Silent Brother’s voice booms through the hall but I can’t hear what he says. I just see Lydia take the stele and summon the Marriage Rune from the stone. I see my hand rise so she can Mark me. Claim me. I feel like I’m drowning. My mind is screaming.

There’s a crash, loud enough to break me out of my trance, and I look over to see that the hall doors have swung open. A vision of dark crimson and luscious skin and hopeful, terrified eyes appears in the entry, and my breath stops. A few steps in and he falters, fearful in front of so many judgmental eyes, and I ache for him. Our eyes meet and everything else vanishes. 

This. This man. This shining, magnificent man. He is home. He is hope. He is freedom. He is courage and strength and love and comfort, he is softness and beauty and nothing matters but him. I crave him like air, like life. His heart beats in time with mine; I can feel it, even from here, and I know, _I know_ , that I can’t ignore this thing between us, can’t live without at least trying.

I’m dimly aware of my mother rising, stomping down the aisle, of her telling Magnus to leave and him ignoring her, telling her he’ll only leave if I ask him to. 

And I won’t. I’m glad he’s here, saving me.

“Alec?” It’s Lydia, her voice bringing the room back into focus. “Hey,” she smiles as I finally turn back to her. 

I try to answer, to say something, anything, but I can’t, there’s no air in my lungs. “Suh…” I gasp, woozy. “I… I can’t breathe.” I sway a little, unsteady.  

“I know,” she says gently. “It’s ok.” 

I shut my eyes and finally manage to get a decent breath. I wonder how long she’s known. “I can’t do this,” I finally say. It feels like I’m digging myself out of a grave, gulping in that first, glorious breath of free air. “I thought we were doing the right thing,” I say. “But this isn’t it.”

Lydia just smiles kindly, sad but not broken. “You don’t have to explain.”

How is she being so nice to me? My heart breaks for her, for everything she’s lost. “Lydia, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” she says, shaking her head. She reaches up and puts a comforting hand on my neck, right over my Rune. “You deserve to be happy, ok?” she tells me. “I’ll be fine.”

She lets me go with a soft smile and I take a breath, turning back to Magnus, to the waiting crowd who’s staring at me in horrified amazement, wondering what I’m going to do. I  wonder too. I look at Clary and Simon, and my father. I look at Hodge and the Clave Representatives and all the Institute people I’ve lived and worked with for so long. I think about all my plans for the future, all my hopes, and I know there are other ways to achieve them. Better ways.

I look at Magnus and he’s bigger and brighter and clearer than anything else in the world and I realize that all my scheming and planning was just a cover, an excuse, a way to keep hiding who I really am and who I want. 

And I want him. God, I want him. Like nothing I’ve ever wanted.

I start down the aisle, my feet sure in a way they haven’t been in a long time, my eyes locked on Magnus. His eyes are wide, almost afraid to believe what’s happening. They’re glamoured but still so full. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, just that I’m doing it, finally. My heart is pounding and I feel so alive, so sharply, keenly alive. 

My mother bustles up to me with some damn question that I don’t even hear. She’s done telling me how to live.

“Enough,” I tell her, never taking my eyes from Magnus. This thing in my chest, this longing, this want, this fire that had been building up in me since the first time I met him is growing inside me, burning, guiding my hands, my body, my lips, and soon I’m pulling him toward me, sealing our mouths together, desperate for his touch, his kiss, his breath. I meld my lips to his and drink him in, finally taking what I’ve been wanting for so long, my knees nearly giving out when his arms go around me, anchoring me against him. And it’s just as good as I thought it would be. Better.   

I draw back slightly, just so I can look into his face, know that I’ve done the right thing, and he leans in, his chin lifting, following my lips before he realizes I’ve pulled away. His eyes burn, elation in every facet of his face, and a tiny smile starts to form on his lips as I lean back in and claim him again again. I let not only my choice to be myself, but my choice to be with him radiate from me, all the desire and longing and love I’ve been fighting, all the joy and relief, and happiness, too, pulsing through me into him. My Magnus. 

All too soon my surroundings come back into my consciousness. I break away reluctantly, feeling soft and amazed at myself, and this incredible, wonderful man in front of me, and a little terrified too. I just kissed a warlock. A male warlock. In front of the Clave. At my own wedding. You know, my wedding to someone else. What happens now?

As though sensing my unease, Magnus smiles. It’s blinding, so happy it breaks me a little. “You never cease to amaze me, Alexander,” he says.

I flush, warm and pleased at his praise. The sound of my full name on his lips is like honey in my veins. “Yeah,” I breathe, almost laughing at the audacity of all this. “What did I just do?”

 _Saved me,_ his eyes say to me. _Saved me, too_ , mine say back. 

I look over at my mother and she’s livid, her anger and rejection stinging me even though she doesn’t say anything, just huffs out of the room. But then Izzy is running down the aisle smiling and she’s telling me how proud she is of me, and Jace is standing up at the altar just smiling, pride written into his mouth, his eyes, and I can’t help the dopey grin that lifts my face. The feeling of right. Finally. Magnus smiles beside me, just as proud and I want to swallow them all in a huge hug, but then Simon is there babbling about some movie and I’m just standing there hoping it will end until I glance at Magnus. He looks exactly the same way I feel and I think, wow. He really _is_ home.

I let out a breath. I can do this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! Please let me know what you thought, I love hearing from you!


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